possession
by avaron. x
Summary: He'll never let her out of his iron cage. And she's falling, falling, falling . —sting x lucy, nonlinear


**A/N: **unedited midnight drabble i'm sorry sobs

**disclaimer: **I do not own Fairy Tail.

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**POSSESSION**

_he'll never let her out of his iron cage. and she's falling, _falling, _falling._

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**.**

(46)

"Hey, angel."

The smile that stretches across his lips is a vicious one. She feels a shiver go up her spine at the look in his sapphire eyes — cold, calculating, and _possessive. _

"That's right, darling. You're _mine_."

.

.

(5)

The lights dim, and the silence stretches. Soft murmurs break the quiet, but the tension builds.

She can feel his eyes following her as she goes — like a predator. Analyzing her every move, invading her thoughts like oil that spreads across water; her hands shake as she reaches for her keys and she clutches them tightly when she finds them, seeking comfort in the possibilities she can summon with flashes of gold.

And he's watching… watching her.

.

.

(21)

"Not tonight, Sting."

"Why not?"

His azure blue eyes glitter challengingly at her.

"Because, I…" her breath is cut short as he raises an eyebrow.

"Because…?"

He cages her in, arms braced against the wall on either side of her, and she is helpless like some trapped bird underneath a cat—no, a _tiger_'s claws—

"I know you want this. _You _know you want this, don't you?"

His warm breath carries the faint scent of peppermints and she closes her eyes, feeling her resolve grow weaker.

And she hates herself, because there's no qualm that he has already won.

.

.

(95)

"I'm sorry."

I don't really want to hear it, she wants to say.

"We tried."

She shuts her eyes and tries to block it out.

"He's not coming back, Lucy," they say—

—and then she can't stand it anymore so she runs home faster than she ever has and she locks herself in her room.

She doesn't come out again for three days.

.

.

(83)

His fingers brush across her cheeks and come away wet.

He looks at the glittering dewdrops with something akin to amazement.

"Why are you crying?"

She doesn't answer his question.

"Will you come back?"

He hesitates; she already knows the answer.

.

.

(100)

She shivers as she feels his faint presence behind her, because she knows it can't be real.

And then she can almost imagine his shark like smile, and she is surprised at the ceaseless longing in her heart.

_(Don't you remember, angel? You're _**mine**_.)_

.

.

(13)

"You're drunk."

Blonde hair, blue eyes, all formidable arrogance swagger—_oh_.

Even drunk, she knows who it is.

—someone dangerous.

In an effort to get away, she stumbles and he catches her.

A dark grin.

"Fairies are delicate things, aren't they?"

A stab of fear passes through her, and… desire?

He is strikingly good-looking, she thinks involuntarily, and smells vaguely of peppermint and candy.

She doesn't know who leans in first, but he is kissing her—hot, passionate, and burning—and she is seeing lights.

—and surprisingly, she finds herself kissing him back.

.

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(62)

She is a broken doll, and she doesn't know it yet, but inside the cracks of her glass heart she is yearning desperately to be fixed.

He can't do that for her.

It is on the fifth day that his own resolve breaks—

"—why the hell are you being such a bitch?" he growls, eyes burning with cold fury.

He hates that she can rile him up this way; such anger is meant for battle, not the heart.

She makes an effort not to glare at him and opts to just ignore his question, but he grabs her arm as she turns to leave.

"You're not leaving until you answer my question."

And so she does.

"I'm sick and tired of this, Sting," she says. "Tired of being your plaything, at your beck and call."

"This game we're playing—"

Swallow. (hard)

He lets go of her arm like he's been burnt.

"Do I… do I even mean anything to you?"

He is silent.

She leaves, and he lets her go.

.

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(90)

"Lucy."

She starts upon hearing her name come out of his mouth.

They look at each other—cobalt blue and caramel—for what could have been centuries (but is only a few seconds).

His walls have finally fallen away.

His face breaks out into a truly genuine smile

(for the first time)

—and there are no goodbyes, just understanding and release.

"You mean the _world _to me."

When her vision has cleared, he is gone.

.

.

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.


End file.
